


I Could Have Met You in a Sandbox

by traitorsinlove



Series: For The Love of Bellarke [9]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Family Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 06:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10679187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traitorsinlove/pseuds/traitorsinlove
Summary: This chapter was inspired by 'Love Song for No One' by John Mayer. One line in particular stood out to me and inspired a prompt inside my head: “I could have met you in a sandbox… I could have passed you on the sidewalk… Could I have missed my chance and watched you walk away?”





	I Could Have Met You in a Sandbox

The playground at Ark Elementary was buzzing with laughter and life during recess. The kindergarteners and first graders were scattered acros the schoolyard; running, laughing, and jumping in play.

A small blond kindergarten girl toddled around the playground. She climbed the slide and giggled as the wind blew her blond curls back. Her laughter died as she looked across the schoolyard to see a boy in the sandbox.

He was a bit bigger than her—a first grader. He had black curls that hung in his face as he focused on his truck roling through the sand. He was all alone, and Clarke felt sad for him.

Clarke ran over to the boy crouched in the hot sand, and she stopped just outsideof the wooden rim. She stared at the boy, amazed by his focus on the grains running through his fingers. He never looked up or noticed her so she decided to speak up after a few minutes.

“What are you doing?” She asked, blatantly.

The boy looked up in surprise. He hadn’t even heard her run up to the box. The first thing Clarke saw was that his eyes were dark, much unlike her bright blue ones.

“Playing.” The boy mumbled as he looked back at the sand.

“Why are you alone?” Clarke stepped into the sandbox and squatted down across from him.

“I like playing alone.” The boy kept his eyes on the truck in his hands.

“No one likes playing alone. My name’s Clarke. What’s yours?” She quipped, clearly not catching onto the boy’s enjoyment of solitude.

“Bellamy,” The boy looked up slowly and gave her a timid smile. “It’s nice to meet you… Clarke.”

Clarke beamed. “Can I play with you, Bellamy?”

“Sure.” He gave her a small smirk before turning back to his truck.

Clarke picked up a small plastic spade and began patting sand into place. She made a mound of packed sand—a castle—and grabbed a dried leaf for a flag.

“Look!” Clarke threw her arms in front of her, demonstrating her masterpiece.

“Cool.” Bellamy smiled at the sandcastle, then up at its architect.

The children shared a smile before returning to their playtime together.

Every day for the rest of the schoolyear, they ate lunch together and played in the sandbox.

**_****10 Years Later****_ **

Clarke slammed the front door of her house in anger. She heard it open behind her, and she grit her teeth.

“Clarke Elizabeth! Get back in this house, now!” Abby demanded.

“Absolutely not. If you think that’s what dad would have wanted for me, then you never even knew him.” Clarke yelled without turning back or breaking stride.

“Where are you going?” Abby screeched when she saw Clarke open her car door.

“None of your business, Abby.” Clarke replied darkly, her adrenaline from their fight suddenly disappearing.

Clarke slammed the car door shut and put the car in reverse. She pulled out of the driveway and screamed down the street, away from her mother and the house that had once been a loving home.

Ten minutes later, she stopped in front of the Blake house. A calm immediately came over her at the sight of the house, and a small smile of relief played at the corners of her lips.

She walked up the cement pathway and up the porch stairs before knocking on the door lightly.

The door swung open to reveal Aurora Blake, the closest thing to a mom Clarke had had since her dad’s death last year. Aurora gave Clarke a look of understanding before opening her arms to the young girl before her. Clarke slammed into Aurora and held onto her like her life depended on it.

“You guys got into it again, hmm?” Aurora murmured in Clarke’s ear.

Clarke nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Aurora ran her hand down Clarke’s hair, comforting her. Just like she had when Clarke was a child, spending summer days skating with Bellamy. Every time Clarke came into the house with a scraped knee or some other injury, Aurora always took her time to clean and bandage the raspberry before running her hands through Clarke’s blond curls and planting a gentle kiss on the band-aid.

“It’s okay. She’s a…” Clarke stopped herself before finishing her sentence. She knew she’d get a swat if she cursed in front of Aurora Blake. “Major pain in my butt,” Clarke shook her head and pulled back. “It amazes me how everything has changed in the past year alone. Everything was different when my dad was alive… I mean, we were a family. Now, it’s just yelling and blaming each other for what happened.”

“Clarke,” Aurora looked down into the girl’s face. “Neither one of you had control over what happened. They’re called accidents because that’s what they are—accidents.”

Clarke said nothing. She really just wanted to go up to her place and lose herself in her art. Her eyes glanced over at the staircase, and Aurora caught her gaze.

The older woman smiled down at her. “Go,” She gestured to the staircase. “I’ll make you some mac ‘n cheese and bring it up.”

Clarke smiled affectionately at the woman. “Thanks, Mom.”

Aurora returned the smile. That was another change that had taken place within the past year. Clarke now referred to Aurora as “Mom” and Abby as “mother” or “birth-giver,” all trace of affection or favor gone.

Clarke took the steps two at a time, and ran down the hall. She turned right at the end and stopped by O’s door. Clarke heard _Potential Breakup Song_ blasting through the closed door and smiled before knocking loudly.

“Come on in!” She heard O call.

“Hey, girlie.” Clarke greeted as she leaned against the doorway.

“Clarke! What’s up?” Eleven-year-old O jumped up from her bed and threw her arms around her brother’s best friend.

“Oh, you know… Me and the birth-giver got into it again,’ Clarke shrugged. “Just needed to come home.”

O smiled, loving that Clarke considered the Blake house her _home_.

“Alright, well, I’ll be in here if you wanna talk.” O gave Clarke one more hug before turning back to her diary on her bedspread.

Clarke shut the door and continued running down the hall. She passed Bell’s room next, but she knew he wasn’t home—his truck wasn’t in the drive when she pulled up. The narrow wooden staircase at the end of the hall was steep so she took it at a walk. It ascended steeply to the left, then turned straight, then left again. The staircase went “through” the wall to a small, stained wooden door. Through that door was the attic—Clarke’s place. This was her art studio; a bean bag chair sat before the half circle window overlooking the front yard. A coffee mug with charcoal pencils and pens sat on a crossbeam, and a stack of sketchpads sat on a small cardboard box; a fan sat beside the door so Clarke could circulate the cooler air from the main house into the attic during the hotter days. Aurora had worried about Clarke’s choice of place, but Clarke had insisted that it was perfect.

Abby never looked on Clarke’s pieces with any interest or encouragement, unlike Aurora. In fact, that’s what their fight had been about.

Clarke pushed those thoughts from her mind, and walked over to her chair. She shifted until she was completely comfortable, then reached for her tools before deciding on a subject.

She started drawing a mountain lake, cattails and lakeweed lining the banks, a family of ducks floating easily on the surface. The mountains leered in the background, and the tall pines surrounded the entire lake.

Clarke glanced up at the sound of a familiar Ford engine rumbling below. She peered out the window to see Bell’s Midnight Blue 1974 F-250 pull into the driveway. She smiled, but kept working on finishing her piece. She wanted to see Bellamy, but she never left a piece unfinished—no exceptions.

Five minutes later, she heard a light knock on the attic door.

“Come on in.” Clarke called, her eyes never leaving the image before her.

“Hey there, Princess.” Clarke could hear the caution in Bellamy’s voice, and she immediately knew that Aurora had warned him about the day’s events with Abby.

“Hey, Bell.” Clarke looked up from her sketch to see Bellamy walking towards her with a bowl of Kraft mac ‘n cheese in one hand, complete with spoon.

“Mom wanted me to bring you this.” Bell shrugged. He hated it when Clarke and Abby fought. He hated that Clarke had to deal with a mother that had no respect or affection for her daughter; Clarke deserved more than that from her supposed family.

“Thanks, Bell.” Clarke smiled up at him, taking the warm bowl of cheesy goodness from him and digging in with her spoon.

“Sure thing.” Bellamy sat down on the floor beside her while she ate. He glanced over at the stack of sketchbooks on the box. He had always wondered what she drew; Clarke shared a lot of her drawings with him, but she made it a rule that no one could go through her sketchpads without her permission. The secret reason behind that rule had always intrigued him.

“What are you working on today?” Bellamy asked, not wanting to press Clarke into talking about the fight with Abby.

“Hm, here.” Clarke’s voice was muffled by the food in her mouth, but she handed him the sketchbook.

Bellamy felt his eyes go wide. He had grown up with Clarke, had witnessed her art blossom and mature all throughout grade and middle school. Now in high school, she was assisting the advanced drawing class as a sophomore. Even though Bellamy was no stranger to the talent that Clarke possessed, it still amazed him sometimes just how great she really was.

“This is great, Clarke.” Bellamy breathed.

“Thanks.” He heard Clarke whisper. At that sound he looked up to find her eyes on the sketch before him, filled with unshed tears.

“Clarke?” Bellamy asked gently, moving to stand on his knees and wrap an arm around her small shoulders.

“Yeah…” She sighed into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“What happened?” Bellamy whispered. He didn’t want to push her, but he needed to know.

“I told her where I want to apply to college… And what I want to major in…” Clarke sighed as she pulled away and wiped the tears from her face.

Bellamy sighed quietly in frustration. Abby had never approved of Clarke’s love of art; she had never attempted to relate to her daughter or encourage her. It only made sense that she would object to the art school in San Francisco.

Bellamy wasn’t exactly fond of the idea either, but not for the same reason; he didn’t want Clarke moving that far from Seattle. What was he saying? He didn’t want her to move _anywhere_ from Seattle, especially San Francisco, California.

“I’m sorry, Princess. But college isn’t for another two years. You’ve got time. And even if she never comes around, forget her. It’s not her life anyway, it’s yours. You do what you want, and don’t let anyone stop you.”

 _Including me,_ Bellamy thought sadly.

**_****5 Years Later****_ **

Clarke bustled about the kitchen at record speed as she put the finishing touches on dinner. She was having her family over for dinner in her new apartment, as a little housewarming party.

She had everything unpacked and organized by ten o’clock the previous night. She wanted this night to be perfect, unlike the past 6 months.

Clarke and her boyfriend of one year, Wells, had broken up two months’ prior after having a rocky last four months together. Turned out that Wells hadn’t been completely honest with Clarke when they first started talking, and Wells’ and Clarke’s mutual friend, Monroe, had shared the details surrounding Wells’ previous breakup—he had cheated on his last girlfriend a number of times. When Clarke confronted Wells, he adamantly denied it, yet his stories didn’t match up. Clarke had dumped him on the spot and had been recovering ever since.

A knock sounded on her apartment door, and Clarke quickly pulled the roast out of the oven before yelling, “Coming!”

She ran to the door, and opened it with a smile. Her three family members smiled at her lovingly and made their way in.

“Welcome to my new place! What do you guys think?” Clarke hugged each of them in turn, lingering longer with Bellamy before gesturing to the open, bright, one-bedroom apartment before them.

“I love it, sweetie. It’s very open and spacious,” Aurora complimented, tears prickling her eyes. “I’m so proud of you, baby girl.”

Clarke felt her own eyes welling with tears as she gazed at the woman before her. This woman had been in her life since the age of five, and had quickly become her role model of a loving mom, honest, respectful.

Clarke chuckled and gave Aurora another hug.

Clarke cleared her throat as they broke away. “What do you guys think?” She turned to fifteen-year-old Octavia, who was busy texting, and Bellamy who hadn’t seemed to be able to take his eyes off of her since he walked through her door.

“I love it. It’s very you. Do you have enough space for your studio?” Bellamy asked, always making sure she wanted for nothing, especially when it came to her art. He knew how important it was for her, especially since she decided to give up the dream of art school. Bellamy wasn’t complaining about that; he had never wanted to see her go, and he still didn’t.

“Yes, I do, thanks, Bell.” Clarke smiled, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.

“It wouldn’t be your place if it didn’t have your studio in it.” Bellamy threw an arm around her shoulders, as he so often did.

“What’s for dinner?” Octavia asked without looking up from her phone screen.

“Pot roast, vegetables, and garlic mashed potatoes.” Clarke smiled, but Octavia didn’t see it, her focus on the five-inch screen in her hands.

“Sounds good.” She replied hollowly, moving to the couch.

Clarke’s mouth dropped open, and she arched an eyebrow toward Bellamy. He sighed before answering her unsaid question.

“She has a new boyfriend and can’t be bothered by the rest of us!” Bellamy’s words had started out as a hushed whisper, but grew louder so as to grab Octavia’s attention.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Well at least I’m putting myself out there, and not dancing around the person I care about… Unlike _some_ people I know.” Octavia replied sarcastically.

Aurora stifled a chuckle. Clarke’s eyes went wide; she had made O swear on her One Direction CD’s that she wouldn’t say a word to anybody. The air froze in Bellamy’s lungs and his palms began to sweat at his sister’s words; how in the world did _she_ know?

Clarke shook herself from O’s comment. “Dinner?”

Twenty minutes later, they were finishing enjoying their meal. Aurora forced O to leave the phone on silent on the couch, much to the teen’s dismay.

“So, Clarke, how’re things going with that Wells guy?” O quipped. Clarke nearly chocked on the bite of mashed potatoes she had just taken. She loved O like a sister, but she lacked a filter ninety-eight percent of the time. Clarke forced the sticky potatoes down her throat, and took a sip of water.

“I’m sorry?” Clarke asked quietly, quirking her eyebrows at O.

“You and Wells. How’s it going?” Clarke blinked twice in shock. She felt the anger building up in her stomach, rolling and growling with fire. Apparently, O didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut anymore. That or Clarke was going to have to limit what she shared with the girl.

“Octavia…” Aurora warned, glancing from Clarke’s fiery blue eyes to her daughter, but Octavia was either oblivious or intentionally ignoring it.

“What? It’s a simple question.” She insisted.

“Octavia, you know full well how that went.” Clarke answered quietly, the words ripping her throat.

_Why is this happening? Why tonight? And Bell! Bell has no idea what happened…_

The next words that fell on Clarke’s ears shook her to her core. Whether it was meant as teasing or serious, it didn’t matter.

“What? Did he break your heart or something?” Bellamy barked a bitter laugh.

Clarke froze, her eyes on the tabletop. She turned her wide eyes to Bellamy, completely in shock. Her mouth was in a straight line, her cheeks were flushed, and her stomach roiled with fire and nausea.

She stared at him like that for a whole minute. Aurora was in too much shock to even react; she just stared at her eldest, her mouth hanging open.

Clarke blinked and returned her eyes to the tabletop, completely silent.

Then she felt her eyes prickling. _Absolutely not. Not here, and not now._

She blinked them away and clenched her jaw.

“Excuse me, but I’m no longer in the entertaining mood.” She quickly rose from the table and stalked to her room, slamming the door behind her.

“Bellamy Blake…” Aurora whispered, disappointment and shock woven in her features.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, he regretted them. He had no idea what made him spit them out. Apparently neither he nor Octavia had a filter tonight… And it had hurt Clarke. Bellamy shut his eyes in disgust with himself and slammed a fist on the table.

“I have no idea where that came from…” He murmured.

“Don’t you?” Aurora smirked, knowing full well how his son felt about the strong blond in the other room.

Bellamy blinked and leaned back in his chair. “You too? How in the world does everyone know how I feel, everyone except for Clarke?”

Aurora gave her son a knowing smile. “We’re not involved, Bellamy. We’re completely objective and we’re watching from the outside-in.”

Bellamy sighed and ran a hand down his face. How was he going to fix this?

Aurora read her son’s thoughts and spoke. “Good luck, Bellamy Alexander. If she ever forgives you for what you just said to her, you had better not screw it up again. Because one, yes, Wells did break her heart and her trust; and two, a woman who loves you will be stubborn to forgive.”

**_****4 Months Later****_ **

Clarke walked down the street, her art portfolio in one hand and her purse slung on the other shoulder. She looked down at her watch; she had twenty minutes to get to her interview.

She kept her eyes on the sidewalk, but that proved to be a bad idea on the busy Seattle street when she bumped into a man.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” She stopped as she saw who it was she had bumped into.

Bellamy Blake stood before her, gorgeous as ever. Those dark unruly curls dangling in front of his forehead, his dark brown eyes seeing every tiny movement she made.

She hadn’t spoken to him since their last dinner at her apartment all those months ago. She had kept in touch with Aurora—she could never shut the closest thing to a mother she had out of her life. But Octavia and Bellamy were a different story; they both hurt her that night, and she wasn’t in a habit of keeping hurtful people in her life.

“No, it was my fault.” He murmured, his eyes glued to his face. Bellamy had tried to call her, had dropped off flowers at her apartment with dates and times to meet, apologies on voicemails, until finally he got the message. She wasn’t going to forgive him, no matter what he did.

“I should have been watching where I was going. But I do have somewhere to be…” Clarke turned to go, but Bellamy caught her by the elbow.

“Clarke, wait, please…” He pleaded, hoping that this passing in the street was a second chance at redeeming himself to her.

“What, Bell?” She sighed. He could see the bags under her eyes and the faint ring of red around her iris’.

“Please…” He searched for the words, but he couldn’t come up with any Oscar-winning material. “Let me apologize, let me make this whole thing up to you. Honestly, Clarke, I have no idea why I even opened my mouth that night. I shouldn’t have said anything, and I’m so sorry that I hurt you. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do. Please, Clarke.”

Clarke weighed his words, her eyes scrutinizing his face, hunting for any signs of insincerity or humor. But she found none.

Clarke sighed. If she was being completely honest with herself, she hated not talking to Bellamy. She hated living her life without her best friend by her side.

“Alright…” She shut her eyes in defeat. When would she ever be able to say no to Bellamy Blake in person?

Before she could open her eyes again, Bellamy had scooped her up, laughing victoriously.

“Bellamy Alexander, what are you…” Clarke’s words died on her lips as she heard the sound of Bellamy’s laugh. How she had missed that sound. And then she felt a smile spreading across her face and a laugh bursting from her mouth.

He set her down, his smile dancing in his eyes. When Clarke’s eyes met Bellamy’s, she felt a flash of heat course down her spine, spreading through her abdomen in want. She had shoved those feelings under the rug years ago, but now she didn’t want to anymore.

She loved Bellamy Blake, she always had, and she wasn’t letting him out of her life again.

**_****6 Years Later****_ **

Bellamy and Clarke Blake walked hand in hand across the green meadow of the local park, watching their children chase each other through the plush grass.

When the twins reached the playground, they immediately ran to the sandbox in the far right corner. The parents took a seat on the bench closest to the children, silently and contentedly watching their children.

They both had dark curls, tanned skin, and an array of freckles. Micah had brown eyes like his daddy, whereas Eden had her momma’s bright blue eyes.

Their children’s giggles rang loud throughout the empty playground.

As Clarke watched her children build castles and other structures in the golden sand, she smiled, remembering a day long ago when she was a few years older than them.

“Remind you of anything?” She murmured, turning to smile up at her husband before softly kissing his neck.

“I was just thinking the same thing, Mrs. Blake.” Bellamy smiled before kissing his Princess deeply.

**Author's Note:**

> So here are the ages of the main characters throughout the chapter:  
> Clarke: 5 Bellamy: 6  
> Clarke: 15 Bellamy: 16  
> Clarke: 20 Bellamy: 21  
> Clarke: 26 Bellamy: 27


End file.
